


There was a Cabaret

by Amjead



Category: Cabaret - Kander/Ebb
Genre: Backstory, Multi, Prequel, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-10-31 01:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10888749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amjead/pseuds/Amjead
Summary: There was a Cabaret...they all had to end up here somehow, right?





	1. Rosie

Rosie Muller was known as _Fraulein Hintern_ at night. In the evenings, she'd go to the club she worked at and perform on stage. Mostly, she was a dancer in the background for the classier acts, but towards the end of the show, she would come on stage, sing a lewd song and flash her bare backside to the drunks in the crowd. She hated it. Surprisingly, it wasn't the nudity she hated. It was the singing. Despite having a job in a nightclub, Rosie was a terrible singer. She was only kept on because of her good dancing skills and because none of the other girls would be caught dead as _Fraulein Hintern._

One night, Rosie had just finished her number. She sat down at one of the tables and a waiter handed her a telephone. He said that table nine was calling.

“Hello?” Rosie asked into the receiver.

“How much are they paying you?” a coy male voice asked.

“I beg your pardon,” Rosie said, utterly confused by the question.

“How much is your boss paying you to work here?” the man asked.

“That's none of your business,” Rosie retorted.

“Whatever it is, I'll double it,” said the man.

“I don't know who you think you are,” said Rosie indigently. “You came to the wrong nightclub. I'm not some prostitute you can buy for a night's fun.”

“You misunderstand me,” the man chimed in. “I'm not looking for sex. I'm looking for a worker. Come work at my club and I'll pay you double.”

“What nightclub is this?” Rosie asked with a touch of interest.

“The Kit Kat Club,” replied the man.

“That's a bit far from where I live,” said Rosie.

“I'll find you a place to stay,” offered the man. “I think you would find working for me quite enjoyable. I wouldn't make you sing. You could dance and flirt all you'd like and never have to worry about singing again.”

Rosie fell silent. The idea of more money and no more singing intrigued her. She shook the thoughts out of her head though. As appealing as the offer sounded, Rosie knew it would be better to keep a level head.

“I'm sorry, sir, I cannot accept,” she answered.

“Very well,” replied the man. “If you change your mind, I'll be here all night. Just ask for table nine.” With that, the man hung up.

Just then, Rosie's boss, Friedrich, came and sat down with her. He looked distinctly irritated.

“Rosie, I need to talk to you,” he said seriously.

"What is it?" Rosie asked.

“It's your act,” replied Friedrich. “I know we're all well aware what a bad singer you are, but I think you've gotten worse.”

Rosie pretended that the insult didn't hurt and asked, “Well, what are you going to do? No one else wants my song.”

“I've been thinking of cutting it,” said Friedrich. “I've been playing with the idea of classing this place up. With a nicer venue, and no vulgar acts, you'd be completely out of place.”

“I'd be completely out of the job,” protested Rosie.

“That's not my problem,” said Friedrich. “Besides, you've got a pretty little rear. I'm sure you'll find work in no time.

“But Friedrich!” Rosie shouted. It didn't matter though. He had already left the table.

Rosie felt like she'd been punched in the gut. She thought she was going to cry, but then suddenly a thought occurred.

She picked up the phone on her table and said, “Hello, I'd like to be connected to table nine please.”

\---

A week later, Rosie was moving into a new apartment, one that was closer to The Kit Kat Club. It was strange how she found this place. While she was back at the old nightclub, Rosie had found a letter addressed to her. The letter had instructed her to come to this flat block. The strange part was that nobody knew where the letter had come from.

Coming back to the present, Rosie stepped into the room that the landlady had showed her and was immediately taken aback by the size.

“There must be some sort of mistake,” said Rosie. “I can't possibly afford this room.”

“Not on your own, of course, but you're sharing it with him,” said the landlady.

"Him?" questioned Rosie.

“The man who rents this room called me today and said that he was taking on a roommate,” explained the landlady. “I wasn't expecting a woman though. Don't worry. I'll be very discreet.”

“There's definitely been a mistake then,” said Rosie. “I didn't know I'd be sharing this apartment with a man.”

“Not to worry,” said the landlady. “He's never here. I saw him once when he first took the apartment, but I've never seen him since. Honestly, I don't know why he even keeps it. If I was in your shoes, I'd be absolutely thrilled. You're paying forty marks for an eighty mark apartment and you'll be getting it all to yourself. Be happy, _liebling._ This is a good thing.”

Rosie wasn't sure, but there was something about this landlady that put her at ease. She smiled and nodded. She would take the apartment.

Later that day, Rosie went to The Kit Kat Club just as the letter told her too. Despite not being open for business yet, the club was still full of activity. Waiters bustled around making sure that everything was in order for when the guests arrived. Three girls were on stage rehearsing a number. Rosie was so absorbed in watching them practice their routine that she didn't even notice someone had come up behind her.

"Hello, _liebling,"_ the someone said.

Rosie whirled around and found a slightly strange, but very attractive man standing behind her.

“Oh!” she said. “It's you. You were the man on the phone and the man who has the apartment.”

“Yes to both,” he said. “I'm glad you decided to come and work with us. Those girls on stage are your sisters now. Go introduce yourself.”

Rosie nodded at the man and then turned on her heel and headed toward the stage as she thought, _This is a brand new life for me. I can't wait to see what it brings._


	2. Lulu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Head's Up! This chapter's a little dirtier than some of the others

Lulu was a prostitute, but she tried not to think about it too much. If she did think about it too much, she would have to face how absolutely terrible she felt about the whole ordeal. Night after night of strange, stinking men would be unbearable, but only if she thought about it too much. Whenever a man would approach Lulu, she'd start singing in her head. She'd keep on mentally singing until the man was finished. Then Lulu would wash her hands and return to her corner. She longed for a way out, but she was never sure how to escape this life.

One winter's night, Lulu was standing on her usual corner. Business was dead. As much as Lulu hated it, she was hoping that someone would come by. She was desperate to get out of the cold. Plus, the money would go towards getting her some food.

As Lulu held her ground, she spotted a couple across the street. They were both very attractive. It wasn't their attractiveness though that caught Lulu's eye. It was the fact that they were talking to each other while pointing at her. It made her feel a little nervous.

After a bit, the couple crossed the street and headed straight toward Lulu. She could see that the man was staring at her with a slightly smug expression.

“G-good evening, _mein Herr,”_ said Lulu a bit anxiously . “Would you l-l-like some company?”

“There's no need for you to be tense,” said the man. “I have a proposition for you.”

“So do most men,” replied Lulu.

“I would imagine so,” said the man with a chuckle. “Anyway, let me explain my business. This is my roommate, Rosie. I think she's very attractive and I'd like to sleep with her, but she refuses. She did, however, say that if I found her a beautiful girl, she'd let me watch. Well, we went for a walk and Rosie has chosen you. What do you say?”

Lulu felt a phantom chill run through her. She'd never been with a woman before, but the thought excited her in a strange way. 

“Sure,” Lulu heard herself saying. “I'll accept.”

“That sounds marvelous, _liebling,”_ said the man. “We'll discuss payment on the walk back to the apartment.”

\---

Back at the apartment, when it was all over, Rosie and Lulu laid in a breathless heap. Lulu was astonished. She had never had sex this enjoyable in her entire life.

“What did you think?” Rosie asked the man who was sitting in a chair next to the bed.

“You two move splendidly together,” said the man. “She should work with us. She could be your dancing partner.”

"I'd approve," replied Rosie.

“Where do you work?” asked Lulu.

“We perform in a nightclub,” answered Rosie. “What do you think? Are you interested?”

Instead of allowing Lulu to answer, Rosie leaned in and passionately kissed her. Lulu could feel as Rosie's soft lips parted her own, her silky tongue slipping inside. She was full of so many emotions, so many feelings that screamed, “Yes!”

Rosie pulled back from Lulu and asked again, “Are you interested?”

"Yes," answered Lulu.

Rosie beamed at her. She looked over at the man. He was smiling too. They both looked like proud parents.

 _This is a brand new life for me,_ Lulu thought. _I can't wait to see what it brings._


	3. Frenchie

Emma Martin was a waitress at The Moulin Rouge. Every night, she'd serve drinks to the guests, but secretly long to be on stage with the dancers. She'd give anything for her moment in the spotlight. 

One night, Emma was delivering two martinis to a table. She went to the customer and noticed him staring and smiling at her.

“Will you sit with me?” the customer asked. “I ordered the second martini for you.”

"I really shouldn't," replied Emma.

“Oh, please though,” insisted the costumer. “I bet you've been on your feet all night. You deserve a break.”

A little smile cracked across Emma's face as she nodded and sat down.

“My name is Heinrich,” he said. “What's yours?”

"Emma Martin," she replied.

“I love your accent,” said Heinrich. “You're a pretty little Frenchie.”

Emma smiled at the compliment and asked, “Where is your accent from?”

“Germany,” Heinrich answered. “I live there with my brother Max and his wife Anna. Right now, I'm touring. I came here on my first night and saw you. I thought you were so lovely that I just kept coming back. Do you like working here?”

Emma turned her attention to the dancers on stage and said, “I don't know,” after a wistful sigh.

“What do you mean you don't know?” questioned Heinrich. “You work in the best place on Earth with some of the beautiful women around.”

“That's just it,” said Emma with anguish. “Yes, I get to work at The Moulin Rogue, but I'm just some lousy waitress. Who would want to do that when you could perform on stage?”

Heinrich looked at Emma thoughtfully and then suddenly said, “Run away with me.”

“What?” replied Emma, completely taken aback.

“Come back to Germany with me,” said Heinrich. “My brother and I are opening up a nightclub there. You could work for us. You could be our headliner.”

The word, 'headliner' bounce around in Emma's head. She could finally be the star she'd always dreamed she'd be. So, naïve little Emma Martin agreed to go with Heinrich back to Germany. 

\---

When Emma and Heinrich arrived at the train station, Max and Anna were there to greet them.

“Max, this is Frenchie,” introduced Heinrich.

Emma was surprised by the nickname. Heinrich had been calling her Emma up until now. Where did Frenchie come from all of the sudden? She decided not to worry about it right now. Heinrich was going to make her famous after all. He could call her whatever he wanted.

“It's nice to meet you, Max,” said Emma.

“It's nice to meet you too, Frenchie,” he replied. He gestured to the woman next to him and said, “This is my wife Anna. She's going to be the headliner and the club that Heinrich and I are opening.”

Emma kept a stiff upper lip as she shook hands with the other woman, but on the inside her heart was breaking. Anna couldn't be the headliner. That's what Heinrich had promised to her. 

“You're French,” Heinrich explained. “It's just a nickname.”

“I think I prefer my own name,” Emma countered. 

“It's a flirty stage name though,” Heinrich pressed. “All the big nightclub stars have flirty stage names.”

“That's another thing I want to talk to you about,” continued Emma. “Why does Max think Anna is going to be the headliner? You and I both know that I'm the nightclub's star.”

“You are, _liebling,”_ Heinrich placated. “You know how men are. They all want their girl to be the main attraction. I promise you though. You're the real deal. Maybe you'll have to share a number or two with Anna, but you'll be the star. Does that make you feel better?”

“It does,” said Emma with a jovial smile.

“That's good,” said Heinrich. “Now, come here, my little Frenchie. Let me make love to you.”

\---

The night before the club was to open, Heinrich, Emma, Max, and Anna were supposed to meet there for a champagne toast. However, half the party was missing. Anna said she wasn't feeling well and since tomorrow night was her big debut, she wanted to stay in bed and rest. And Heinrich was running late getting there. 

“I hope he gets here soon,” said Emma to Max. “I'm excited to drink the champagne.”

“I am too,” said Max. “Do you have the glasses?”

“I thought you were bringing the glasses,” said Emma.

“No,” replied Max. “I was bringing the champagne. You and Heinrich were suppose to bring glasses.”

“That does sound familiar,” said Emma with a frown. “I'll go back to the apartment and get some then. Maybe I'll run into Heinrich on my way there.”

When Emma came back to the apartment, she could hear Heinrich's voice, but that couldn't be. He should've been on his way to the club by now. Emma was about to call out to him, but something pressed her not to. Instead, she silently crept up to the closed bedroom door and listened.

“I promise you're the real deal,” she heard Heinrich say. “Maybe you'll have to share a number or two with Frenchie, but you'll be the star. Does that make you feel better?”

“It does,” Emma heard Anna say.

“That's good,” said Heinrich. “Now, come here. Let me make love to you.”

Emma knew instantly what was going on, but she was too shocked to do anything about it. She left her apartment in a daze and slumped down on the stoop. She barely even noticed when Max showed up in front of her.

“You were gone for so long I thought that something had happened,” said Max. “Hey, Frenchie, are you all right?”

“He's sleeping with her,” said Emma blandly.

"What?" asked Max confusedly.

Emma's tear filled eyes locked with Max's as she repeated, “He's sleeping with her.”

Now knowing what Emma meant, Max took a deep breath and said, “I have an apartment over the club. You can spend the night there. Leave now, Frenchie.”

Emma nodded and left Max standing there alone.

\---

The next morning, Emma woke up in the nightclub's apartment. At first, she didn't know where she was, but when she remembered the events of last night, the feelings of sorrow returned. Then, Max suddenly burst into the room. He seemed supremely agitated.

"What happened?" Emma asked meekly.

“Nothing,” spat Max. “Heinrich and Anna have decided to run off together. It's better this way.”

“I should go back to the apartment and get some things,” said Emma.

“No,” said Max curtly. “You can stay here as long as you like, but you need to find somewhere else to live. You can't go back to that apartment again.”

“I guess you're not opening the club now,” said Emma.

“Of course I'm still going to open the nightclub,” said Max. “We've got a boss. We've got acts. We've got a headliner. We've got everything we need.”

At the word, 'headliner,' Emma became lost in thought. Anna was gone. She was the star now.

“Later on, there's someone I want you to meet,” said Max. “Her name is Sally. I think she's going to be big around here.”

Emma wasn't listening though. She was already living out the life in her head.

 _This is a brand new life for me,_ she thought. _I can't wait to see what it brings._


	4. Texas

Katherine O'Hara was worried that she was living a boring life. She was a good girl who always listened to her parents' rules. Go to school. Be on time for etiquette lessons. Become a debutant. Katherine loved her parents and she never wanted to disobey them, but she always felt like she was missing out on real life experiences.

Katherine often daydreamed about moving away from home once she turned eighteen. She wanted to go far away and live an exciting life full of new adventures. The only trouble now was to pick a place to go to. London? Paris? She'd already been and so had numerous other girls from her charm school. No, Katherine wanted to go somewhere even farther, a place where no one she knew had ever been before. Katherine wanted to go to Berlin.

Katherine came up with the biggest lie of her life and told her parents that she'd been hired on as an _au pair_ for a German family. She had to do a lot of quick thinking, but she was able to convince her parents that this story was true.

Once in Berlin, Katherine found herself absolutely terrified. Her German was poor and she had a lot of trouble getting from place to place. She ended up in a one room apartment in a seedy part of town. For the first week, Katherine was afraid to even step foot outside, but she new she had to find a job if she was going to survive.

One night, Katherine looked out her window. Across the way, she could see a small, black building. It had, “Kit Kat Club” painted on it in red letters. Katherine considered the club. She wondered what it would be like to work there. After a bit of over thinking, Katherine decided that it would be much too dangerous for a girl like her to work there. Just then though, Katherine heard a woman's voice from below.

_“Guten Abend, mein Herr. Möchten Sie einige Unternehmen wie?”_

It was a prostitute. Seeing her made Katherine feel very afraid. She considered the club again and determined that working in a nightclub was much better than the apparent alternative.

\---

The next night, Katherine mustered up all of her courage and went over to the club.

She approached a bartender and asked, in very terrible German, “Who's in charge here?”

“That would be Max,” replied the bartender. He looked around and then pointed at a tall, serious looking man. “That's him over there.”

Katherine thanked the bartender and walked towards Max, getting more and more nervous with every step. The closer she got, the more intimidated she was.

Once Katherine was beside Max, she very timidly said, “Excuse me.”

“What do you want?” Max asked, treating Katherine as if she was an ant on the floor.

Katherine took a deep breath and said, “A job. I want a job.”

Max laughed as if this was some kind of joke and barked, “Who do you think you are? Are you seriously asking me for a job? I don't do charity cases.”

Feeling hurt and forgetting herself, Katherine shouted in English, “I am not a charity case!”

As if it came from out of the air, a posh British voice rung out, “Oh my goodness!”

A young woman bustled right over to Katherine and took her hand.

“You speak English!” she said delightedly. “I'm so happy. You can't imagine how terrible it's been since I can't hold a proper conversation with anyone. Oh, I'm so glad you're here. We're going to be such good friends. Was Max giving you any trouble? I hope he wasn't. He can be such a grump, but he can be quite sweet once you get to know him.”

The girl then turned her attention to Max and asked in German that was almost as bad as Katherine's, “What does she want?”

"A job," replied Max.

“Well then you better give her one,” said the girl. “I won't hear otherwise.”

Max rolled his eyes. He knew he wasn't going to win this battle.

He looked back at Katherine and begrudgingly said, “You can be a waitress.” With that, he walked away.

“Wow,” said Katherine. “That was amazing. I can't thank you enough.”

“Oh, it's no trouble at all,” said the girl. “Men become absolutely pliable once you sleep with them. Oh, and don't worry about the whole waitress thing. I'll make sure that you get to be a dancer. You can dance, right?”

Katherine thought back to her years of ballet lessons. She had a feeling that wasn't the kind of dancing she'd be expected to do. On the other hand, Katherine was excited. This was exactly the kind of adventure she was hoping for.

“Yes,” Katherine replied. “I can dance.”

“Well that settles it then,” said the girl. “Say, where are you from?”

"Texas," said Katherine.

“How lovely,” enthused the girl. “That can be my little pet name for you. I'll call you Texas and you simply must come up with some darling little pet name to call me. It will be absolutely charming.”

Katherine felt positively dizzy around this girl, but she liked it.

 _“This is a brand new life for me,”_ Katherine thought. _“I can't wait to see what it brings.”_


	5. Fritzi

Bertha Schmit could only remember three things about her mother vividly. Her pet name for Bertha was Fritzi, she was a laundress, and she hated the woman who lived in the apartment below them.

When Bertha was a little girl, she would be sent around the apartment building to collect the neighbors' clothes. Her mother would always say to her, “Don't go to the apartment below, Fritzi. That woman is not good people. I don't want her talking to you.”

Bertha never asked why. She would simply obey and avoid the apartment below.

One morning, Bertha was making her rounds throughout the apartment building. She was about to pass the door of the forbidden apartment when she heard the doorknob turn. Quickly, she ducked into the nearby stairwell and spied on the goings on. 

A homely man and a beautiful woman stood in the doorway. The man kissed the woman on the cheek, handed her cash, and then left. 

Bertha was confused. She didn't think the woman below was married, but if she wasn't, who was that man? Also, why did he give her that money? Bertha could tell from the size of the stack of bills that it was certainly a lot; probably more than her mother made in a week.

She was about to sneak away when suddenly a melodious voice asked, “Child, are you eavesdropping on me?”

Bertha was caught off guard. The woman her mother forbade her from associating with was speaking to her. She was so shocked that she didn't know what to say.

“Oh, I know who you are,” said the woman. “You're the laundress' daughter. When I first moved in, I would always wait for you to come around and get my clothes. Eventually, I just gave up, but you're here now. Hold on one moment, let me go get my things.”

“Mama says I'm not allowed to take your clothes,” said Bertha, finding her voice.

“Does she now?” asked the woman with a smirk. “I had a feeling something was up. I can't say that I'm surprised though. I'll tell you what. I'll give you my clothes and you just won't tell your mama that they're mine. I'll even give you a nice, big tip. How does that sound?”

“Mama doesn't accept tips,” replied Bertha.

“Well, you can keep it then,” said the woman. “Wait right here. I'll get my clothes.”

A moment later, the woman was handing Bertha a bundle, thanking her, and closing the door. As Bertha walked back to her own apartment, she wondered why her mother didn't like the woman below. She was awfully nice and very beautiful. Still though, Bertha decided it would be best not to tell her mother about this interaction.

\---

Later that night, Bertha sat with her mother as she washed the clothes. She could feel herself become increasingly nervous when she reached into the woman's bag. Her anxiety went through the roof when her mother pulled put a pair of expensive looking panties and inspected them.

“Fritzi, who does this bag belong to?” her mother asked.

"Uh, _Frau_ Fischer," Bertha lied.

Her mother chuckled and said, “If these belong to _Frau_ Fischer, than her husband must have gotten a much better job.”

Bertha chuckled too as if she was in on the joke.

\---

The next evening, Bertha was going back around the building again, returning the laundry. Her last stop was the woman below. She knocked on the door and the woman, still looking just as beautiful, answered.

 _“Guten Abend, liebling,”_ she said cheerfully. “Did your mother ask about my clothes?”

“She did,” replied Bertha. “I said they belonged to _Frau_ Fischer.”

 _“Frau_ Fischer?” the woman laughed. _“Frau_ Fischer wishes she had my clothes. Anyway, I left my purse in my bedroom. Would you like to come in while I get it?”

Bertha knew this would upset her mother greatly, but the woman had been so kind. She couldn't see the harm in it. So, Bertha nodded and stepped inside.

The inside of the apartment was decorated lavishly. There were lots of fresh flowers and framed photographs. Bertha noticed that the same woman was in every photograph. She guessed that it was the woman who was her neighbor today, but younger. She looked even more beautiful in her youth.

There was one photo in particular that made Bertha stop dead in her tracks. It was an autographed pinup. The message said, “To Elisabeth. Always remember who you are. All my love, Fritzi.”

Bertha nearly jumped a foot in the air when the woman came up behind her and asked, “Do you like my photo?”

Instead of answering the question, Bertha said, “My mama calls me Fritzi. Are you Fritzi too?”

“I am,” said the woman. “What a coincidence that I should meet a little Fritzi.”

"Who's Elisabeth?" asked Bertha.

“Myself as well,” she answered. “Elisabeth is my real name. Fritzi was my stage name back in my dancing days. They used to call me, _'Die Fabelhafte Fritzi.'”_

“Do you still dance?” Bertha asked.

"No," replied Elisabeth.

"Why not?" pressed Bertha.

“I got older, I supposed,” said Elisabeth. “Nobody wants to see an aging burlesque star. I can't say I blame them. I do miss it terribly though. That's why I autographed the photo to myself. I never want to forget who I used to be. That's something I want to impart on you, little Fritzi. Dance as long as you can. Promise me that?”

Bertha looked into Elisabeth's eyes. They were full of nostalgia and regret. Bertha knew that this was something very important to Elisabeth. She nodded solemnly and decided that this was a promise she had to keep.

“Very good,” said Elisabeth. “Now for the payment. How much does your mother charge?”

"Ten Marks," Bertha replied.

Elisabeth rummaged through her purse and handed Bertha some bills.

“That's ten for your mother and five for you,” she said. 

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Bertha noticed Elisabeth grimace just a little. 

“Be there in a moment,” Elisabeth called. Then, she turned to Bertha and said, “You'd better run along now. Remember what I said, Little Fritzi. Dance as long as you can.”

Bertha nodded and went to the door. On her way out, she passed by the man who had been knocking. It was a different man than the one she saw the other day.

As Elisabeth closed the door, Bertha could hear her say, “Hello, _mein Herr._ You've arrived earlier than I expected.”

\---

Later that week, Bertha and her mother ran into _Frau_ Fischer in the stairwell. Bertha listened quietly as the two women chatted.

“Are congratulations in order?” Bertha's mother asked. “I had reason to believe that your husband got a promotion at work.”

“No, he didn't,” said _Frau_ Fischer a bit indigently. “As a matter of fact, he lost his job. That's the problem with living in this building. There's too much gossip and not enough facts.”

“Oh, I'm terribly sorry,” said Bertha's mother, obviously embarrassed. “If you'll excuse me, I just remembered something that I need to attend to.”

At once, Bertha was grabbed firmly by the arm and pulled into their apartment.

As soon as the door was shut, Bertha's mother gruffly asked, “Who did that underwear belong to?”

“I, um, I don't know,” Bertha said nervously.

“You're lying,” spat back her mother, getting louder and louder. “They belonged to the woman downstairs. Didn't they?”

"Yes," whimpered Bertha, frightened.

“You know that you're forbidden from associating with her,” her mother shouted. “Do you think I'm doing this out of spite? I'm doing this to protect you. Do you know what that woman is? She's a whore. She sleeps with strange men for money.”

Bertha was so shocked by the revelation that she began to cry.

“I'm just trying to protect you,” said her mother. “I don't want you hanging around with someone so licentious. Do you understand?”

“Yes, mama,” said Bertha in a near whisper. “I understand.”

\---

The next day, Bertha was outside playing when Elisabeth approached her.

 _“Guten tag,_ Little Fritzi,” she said. “How are you today?”

Bertha didn't answer.

“Are you mad at me?” Elisabeth asked.

“Mama said you sleep with strange men for money,” said Bertha. “Is it true?”

"Yes, it's true," Elisabeth sighed.

Bertha could feel her heart breaking inside of her. This woman that she cared about and respected was nothing but a tramp.

“You lied to me,” Bertha said with tears threatening to spill.

“You never asked,” said Elisabeth. “You asked about my past and I told you. If you want to hear about who I am now, I'll tell you. Yes, I do sleep with men for money. You don't learn too many marketable skills from dancing, but you do learn how to seduce. So, when I became too old to dance, I took the only thing I knew how to do and I went into business for myself.”

“You could have gotten married,” said Bertha. “You were beautiful. Any man would have married you and taken care of you.”

“And belong to some man?” Elisabeth chuckled. “Never. That's what I like the best about my profession. No one can claim me, but me. I'm sure you can understand that.”

Bertha nodded. Being raised by a widow with no intention of getting remarried gave her a sense of respect for working women. She guessed that even if the work itself wasn't respectable, Elisabeth was. Bertha could justify that in her heart.

“Do you feel better now, Little Fritzi?” asked Elisabeth.

Bertha smiled and said, "Yes."

“That's good,” replied Elisabeth. “Anyway, I'd better get going. I don't want you to get into anymore trouble on my account. _Auf wiedersehen,_ Little Fritzi.”

\---

Later that night, loud noises coming from below Bertha's bedroom woke her up. It sounded like someone banging around and shouting. 

“Mama?” she called out, “What's going on?”

“Nothing, _liebling,”_ replied her mother. “Stay in bed.”

Bertha couldn't stay in bed though. Whatever was going on was quite distressing. And when she heard a shout that sounded like Elisabeth, Bertha shot out of bed and ran to the door to see what was going on.

“Bertha, I thought I told you to stay in bed,” her mother said tersely as she passed her.

Bertha wasn't listening though. When she flung open the door, she could see two policemen, dragging Elisabeth away. 

“This is an outrage!” screamed Elisabeth. “You can't do this to me!” Then, she noticed Bertha peering down helplessly at her. “Little Fritzi!” she shouted. “Don't forget what I told you! Dance as long as you can!” With that, she relented and went with the police calmly.

Just then, _Frau_ Fischer came down the stairs and asked, “What was that all about?”

“That prostitute was finally arrested,” said Bertha's mother, coming out to retrieve her daughter.

“That's a relief,” said _Frau_ Fischer. “I often thought about calling the police myself, but it always seemed so risky. I wonder who finally made the call.”

“Yeah,” said Bertha's mother noncommittally. “I wonder. Come on, Bertha. Let's go back inside.”

As she guided her daughter back into the apartment, she hadn't noticed that Bertha had begun to cry.

\---

"What's your name?"

Years later, Bertha had left her mother's apartment and was now making it on her own. She was a laundry lady for awhile, but it didn't have the glamor that she so desperately craved. So, she decided to take the advice of an old friend and dance as long as she could. That was how she ended up in one of the seediest nightclubs she'd ever been in, talking to a very strange and attractive man.

“What's you name?” he asked again.

Bertha inhaled sharply and then breathed out, “Fritzi.”

“Well, welcome to the family then, Fritzi,” said the man with a sly smile. “I imagine you'll be heading downstairs now to the dressing rooms to claim a mirror.”

Bertha nodded and excused herself. This man gave her a strange feeling and she couldn't tell if she liked it or not yet.

Once downstairs, Bertha found a mirror that didn't have any personal belongings attached to it. She sat down at the chair in front of it and retrieved the photograph that was folded in her coat pocket. It was the photo of Elisabeth that she autographed to herself. 

As Bertha was pushing the photo into the frame of the mirror, another girl came up behind her and said, “She's pretty. Who is she?”

Bertha turned to the girl behind her and said, with a bit of hesitation, “She was an old family friend. She was like a second mother to me.”

The girl smiled and then walked away. Once she was gone, Bertha turned her attention back to the photo. 

_“This is a brand new life for me,”_ Bertha thought a she gazed at the photograph. _“I can't wait to see what it brings.”_


	6. Helga

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads Up: This chapter includes sexual harassment

Helga didn't know her last name. She didn't know where she came from. She didn't know her family. All she knew was the orphanage and the harsh nuns who ran it. 

Growing up, for one reason or another, Helga had developed more quickly than the others girls in the orphanage. From a young age, she had the voluptuous curves of someone much older. The nuns hated her for this. They would tell her that her body had cursed her with a life of licentiousness and sin.

On the occasions that some wealthy person stopped by the orphanage with generosity and a desire for children in their heart, the nuns would discourage the perspective parent away from Helga. 

“Her womanly form is too grotesque for a little girl,” the nuns would always say. “She'll be nothing but trouble.”

When Helga turned eighteen, and could no longer stay at the orphanage, she asked one of the nuns with worry, “What should I do now that I'm being put out?”

The nun sneered and said, “Take you sinful body to the streets. You'll be making money in no time.”

That was exactly what Helga did. She became a prostitute in one of the poorer neighborhoods. She was very lovely so she had lots of clients, but they rarely had enough money to pay Helga what she asked for. So, she often ended up settling for less.

\---

One evening, Helga was on her usual corner doing what she always did. Up the street, she saw a slightly strange, but very attractive man. He was coming right for her. She knew she wanted to make a proposition to him. She was hoping he'd accept.

“Good evening, _Mein Herr,”_ she said seductively. “Would you like some company?”

The man looked Helga up and down and asked, “How much?” with a wry smile.

"75 Marks," she replied.

The man chuckled as if he heard a sour joke and said, “You're very beautiful, _Fraulein,_ but I think you're in the wrong neighborhood if you're charging 75 marks. Have a good evening.”

The man nodded respectably and, much to Helga's dismay, walked away. Just a moment later, another man approached Helga. He was much gruffer looking, but a buyer was a buyer.

“Good evening, _Mein Herr,”_ started Helga again. “Would you like some company?”

“Yeah,” said the gruff man. “How much?”

"75 Marks," replied Helga.

The man laughed roughly and said, “You must think you're pretty hot stuff to be charging 75 Marks. Listen, I don't have that kind of money. So, I'm just going to take what I can get.”

At once, the man grabbed Helga by the waist and started to pull down her skirt right there on the street.

“Oh!” cried Helga. “Stop! Help! Someone help me!”

The man held Helga as tightly as he could and leered, “You think someone's going to help a dumb little prostitute like you? No one's coming, _liebling._ Daddy's not coming to save you.”

Helga started to wail, but then, suddenly, the man from a few moments ago dashed up and punched the attacker. As he reeled back from the blow, the man grabbed Helga by the hand and the two of them ran until they were in the safety of a nearby nightclub. The man sat Helga down at a table and went to get her something to drink.

When he came back, he said, “I lagged behind when I saw that guy come up to you. He seemed like a lot of trouble. I wanted to stick around to make sure you didn't get hurt.”

Tears were streaming out of Helga's eyes as she said, “Thank you. I don't know how I could ever repay you.”

“You could go on home,” said the man. “Go back to your parents. I'd feel much better if I knew you were safe at home with them.”

“I don't have any parents,” said Helga. “I'm an orphan.”

“Well, we'll have to think of something to do with you,” said the man. “I'll worry myself sick if I let you go back to that street corner.”

Helga had calmed down by now and was looking around. She had never been in a nightclub before. She thought it was really impressive.

“What is this place?” she asked.

“This is The Kit Kat Club,” answered the man. “I work here.”

“That's it,” said Helga, getting an idea. “I could work here too.”

“I don't know about that, _liebling,”_ he said. “I'm not really in charge around here. Sure I've recruited a couple of girls on my own, but everyone has to go through Max first.”

“Then talk to him, “ said Helga. “Put in a good word for me. Please. I'm desperate to be off the streets. I'll do anything.”

“Anything?” the man repeated with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“Yes,” Helga replied, feeling her own mischief rising. “Anything.”

“I'll see what I can do,” said the man as he got up from the table to go find Max.

Helga felt elated she knew that this job was as good as hers.

 _“This is a brand new life for me,”_ she thought. _“I can't wait to see what it brings.”_


	7. Sally

Victoria Kelly was born in Wheaton, Illinois to her mother, father, and twin older sisters. The year after, Victoria's father tragically died in a car accident. Mrs. Kelly worked in a factory to make ends meet, but it wasn't the type of life she pictured for herself.

One day a neighbor said to Mrs. Kelly, “A local department store is looking for children to be in their next catalog. Your two older girls are so beautiful. You should take them to the open call and see if they want them.”

So, that Saturday afternoon, Mrs. Kelly and her three daughters went to the open call. A photographer met all the children and decided who had the chance to be in the catalog. When he got around to the Kellys, he chose the twins and said that the other one could go home. Mrs. Kelly didn't mind that Victoria was picked over. She was so excited that her other daughters had the chance to be in a catalog.

When the catalog was delivered to their doorstep, the twins were on the front cover. Mrs. Kelly was so happy. Her daughters were famous! When the checks came in the mail the next day, Mrs. Kelly was even happier. It was right then and there that she decided that her twins, Velma and Veronica, would have careers in entertainment. She would see to that. And perhaps, Victoria might be good for something too.

\---

Seventeen years later, things were different and yet the same. Velma and Veronica moved to Chicago to break into the city's vaudeville scene. Victoria was back home with her mother, still living in her sisters' shadows.

Victoria had tried to get jobs on her own. She longed to be in the glitzy entertainment business, but every time she auditioned for someone, they'd immediately bring up her sisters and nearly forget that Victoria was even there. 

Then one day, something so traumatic happened that it rocked Victoria to her core. Her sister, Velma, had been arrested for suspicion of murder against her new husband and Veronica as well. The press was all over her in an instant. 

Victoria simply couldn't believe it. One sister was dead and the other was a suspected murderer. She knew that staying in Wheaton was bad news. She had to get out of Illinois and fast. So, Victoria got all of her saved up money, kissed her mother goodbye, and bought a one way boat ticket to Paris. With everyone in America's eyes on Veronica Kelly's murder, Victoria Kelly wanted to get out of America as soon as possible.

\---

While on the boat, Victoria stood at the railing, and gazed out to sea.

Just then, a handsome French man approached her and said, _“Bonjour, mademoiselle. Comment vous appelez-vous?”_

“Huh?” Victoria said, almost oafishly.

“What is your name?” the man asked in thickly accented English.

That was a good question. What was Victoria's name? Murder associations or not, she simply just did not want to be Victoria Kelly anymore. In that case, who was she? Suddenly, Victoria remembered someone. There was a girl, about her sisters' age. She was also in Wheaton's entertainment scene. She was somewhat of a rival to Velma and Veronica. Her name was Sally.

“My name is Sally Bernard,” said Victoria in confident French.

“I'm pleased to meet you, _Mademoiselle Bernard._ My name is Joseph. Would you like to take a walk with me?”

"Yes," accepted Victoria.

Later that night, she slept with him. 

\---

Victoria didn't stay in Paris for very long. It wasn't too hard finding boyfriends to live with or waitress jobs to earn some spending cash, but Victoria didn't want to be a waitress. She wanted to perform. The club owners didn't want her though. There was always some better, prettier French girl waiting in the wings. Sally Bernard only stayed in Paris for a year. After that, she went to London. There, she was Sally Smith.

Victoria found that she liked pretending to be British much better than pretending to be French. She hopped from boyfriend to boyfriend at will and began singing in a small nightclub called The Royal Garden. She was there for three years when she suddenly had a terrible shock.

Victoria was backstage, drinking tea, when she overheard two waiters, Robert and James, talking.

“Do you remember the Kelly case?” Robert asked James.

“I remember it,” said James. “It was some of the most interesting news to come from the states in a while. What about it?”

“Her trial's finally over,” said Robert. “After a delay in her hearing, she was found not guilty. She's out of prison and now she's Chicago's hottest ticket. Maybe she'll even come over hear and perform for us.”

“Yeah, like that'll ever happen,” said James with a laugh. “Velma Kelly is a big star. We don't get people like that over here.”

Just then, Victoria dropped her teacup. It shattered all around her.

“Are you all right, Sally?” Robert asked.

“Uh, yes,” said Victoria, shaking her head a little. “I guess I'm just out of it today.”

As the three picked up the pieces of the broken teacup, James asked, “Hey, Sally, has anyone ever told you that you kind of look like Velma Kelly? We were just talking about her. You do sort of look like her, you know. It's almost like you could be her sister.”

“No,” said Victoria, casting her eyes down. “Nobody has ever told me that.”

That was the last night that Victoria performed at The Royal Garden.

\---

Shortly there after, Victoria arrived in Berlin. Surely here, no one would know of her family's past. 

She was walking down a street, looking for a place to stay when a handsome man stopped her.

 _“Hallo Fräulein. Wie heißen Sie?”_ he asked.

Victoria wasn't totally sure what he had asked her. Her German wasn't very good. She guessed that she was asking her name. Quickly, Victoria had to decide on a new name. She had known of a German family in her youth. What was there last name? Bow-something.

“My name is Sally Bowles,” said Victoria.

“You speak English,” said the man.

“Of course I do,” said Victoria. “I'm from England.”

“Of course you are,” said the man. “Anyway, it's nice to meet you. My name is Max. Would you like to go for a walk with me?”

Victoria nodded and the two walked together.

As they went along, Victoria thought to herself, _“This is a brand new life for me. I can't wait to see what it brings.”_


	8. Bobby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up: This chapter contain homophobia

Bobby Weber's best friend was Viktor Mayer. The two grew up together in the same apartment building and were inseparable. In a word, Bobby felt that he loved Viktor. 

When he was very little, he would tell people that he was going to marry Bobby one day. The adults he told this too would always just laugh. What a silly thing for a child to say. Bobby didn't like it when they laughed though. He really did want to marry Viktor.

\---

When Bobby was a little older, all of his schoolmates fancied the pretty new teacher, _Fraulein_ Wagner. 

“She's so beautiful,” said one of the boys after school one day. “What do you think of her, Bobby?”

“I don't know,” he replied. “She's fine and all, but I still prefer Viktor.”

All the boys laughed. Viktor didn't say anything.

“What are you, some kind of queer?” asked another one of the boys.

“What does that mean?” Bobby asked innocently.

The boy laughed harder and said, “Why don't you ask Viktor.”

The other boys left them, still laughing their heads off. Bobby and Viktor walked to their apartment building in silence.

When they got to the front door, Bobby asked, “Viktor, what does, 'queer' mean?”

Viktor sighed, ruffled Bobby's hair, and said, “I'm not going to tell you. I don't want you to be upset.”

Bobby didn't understand what Viktor meant, but he dropped it and went inside to his own apartment where his mother was waiting for him.

“Hello, Bobby,” she said. “How was school today?”

“Fine,” he replied. “Mom, what does, 'queer' mean?”

“Why do you want to know?” she asked, troubled. “Did someone at school call you that?”

"Yes," answered Bobby.

“What happened?” asked his mother.

“I was saying something about Viktor and one of the boys asked if I was queer,” Bobby explained.

“What did you say to the boy?” his mother asked as she bit her lip with concern.

“I said I didn't know what queer meant,” Bobby replied. “Then the boy said to ask Viktor. I did, but he wouldn't tell me either. That's why I'm asking you. What does it mean?”

She paused for a moment and then said, “It means that something's not right with your head. Anyway, whatever you said about Viktor, you probably shouldn't say it again.”

“Mom, is Viktor queer?” Bobby asked.

“I don't think so,” his mom answered.

"Am I?"

"Definitely not."

After that, Bobby didn't talk about Viktor in front of the other boys.

\---

When Bobby was a little older still, there was a day when he was moping around the apartment.

“What's wrong?” his mother asked him.

“I'm bored,” said Bobby. “I want to see Viktor, but he's laid up with a broken leg and is too weak for visitors.”

After a pause, Bobby's mother asked, “Why don't you ever bring any girls around?”

“Girls?” repeated Bobby, genuinely confused. “Why would I bring girls around?”

“You're my only son,” his mother answered. “I want to see you get married someday.”

Still believing what he said in his childhood, Bobby replied, “I'm going to marry Viktor. I've always said this. Don't you remember?”

The air in the room became very tense. Bobby's mother went up to her son and took his face in her hands. As Bobby looked into his mother's eyes, he couldn't remember a time when she looked more intense.

“Bobby,” she said tersely. “Listen to me. You have to stop saying that. I know you said it when you were very little and it was cute and funny, but it isn't anymore. I know you really don't mean it when you say you're going to marry Viktor, but what if someone who didn't know you overheard? They'll think you're a queer. Do you know what they do to boys like that? My son is perfectly normal. I won't have anyone think he's some kind of diseased person. Do you understand?”

Truth be told, Bobby didn't understand. He never thought that his love for Viktor was a joke. He never realized that his mother was always just humoring him. He didn't understand why loving Viktor made him queer. Love didn't make someone not right in your head. Either way though, Bobby had never seen his mother more serious. He didn't want to make her mad.

So, even though he didn't understand, he said, “I do.”

\---

A little while later, Viktor was feeling stronger so he hobbled down to Bobby's apartment to visit him. They sat in Bobby's bedroom in the empty apartment as he relayed the conversation he had with his mother.

“She said that she didn't want people to think I had a disease,” said Bobby. “The whole thing was very confusing. She said that if people heard me talking about you, they might think I'm a queer, but I don't get that. So many people are in love. Why am I sick in the head if I love you?”

Viktor chuckled and said, “I guess you still don't know what queer means. I'm a little surprised. A boy is a queer when he likes another boy. It's not right, Bobby. I know you think your mother is being ridiculous, but we really shouldn't go on like this.”

Bobby was shocked by Viktor's words. He had never spoken like this before.

“What are you talking about?” Bobby asked. “You know that I love you. Are you saying that what I feel isn't right?”

Bobby took Viktor's hand in his, but Viktor immediately pulled away.

“Come on, Bobby,” said Viktor. “It was fine when we were kids, but we're getting older now. We're seventeen. We can't play like this anymore.”

“Play?” Bobby questioned. “You think this is just playing? I was serious, Viktor. I still believed that I was going to marry you.”

A thick, heavy, awkward silence hung between the two. After an eternal moment, Viktor said, “I think I should leave, Bobby, before you get hurt even more.”

Stunned silent, Bobby watched Viktor make his leave. Once he was gone, Bobby tried to distract himself with a book, but it was impossible. He eventually wore himself out fretting and succumbed to a sleep full of bad dreams.

Bobby was awoken by his mother's return.

“Hello, Bobby,” she said. “Were you taking a nap?”

"Yes," said Bobby sleepily.

“I ran into _Herr_ Mayer on the way up,” reported Bobby's mother. “He said that Viktor has a date tonight with Frieda Becker. She lives in the apartment on the top floor. Her father and _Herr_ Mayer know each other. I thought it was nice that your friend is finally seeing a girl.”

Bobby didn't even know if his mother said anything after that. He could feel his world crumbling around him. He didn't know what to do. So, he went into his bedroom and silently cried until he fell asleep for the night.

\---

The more Viktor saw of Frieda, the less he saw of Bobby. He still felt a love in his heart for Viktor, but this love was being tested. His love faced the ultimate test when Viktor came to his apartment to visit him one day.

“I'm surprised to see you,” said Bobby when he opened the door. “You haven't come around in a while.”

“I know,” replied Viktor. “I've moved out of the building. I have my own place now. It's just up the street. Would you like to come see it?”

Bobby felt uncomfortable. When did Viktor move out? He feel like he should've known this. Putting emotions aside though, Bobby consented and the two walked to Viktor's new apartment.

When they got there, Viktor asked, “Do you like it?”

“Yes,” answered Bobby. “It has a nice, new feel to it.”

“That's what I like about it,” said Viktor. “I'm really going after a new life.”

“A new life without me in it,” Bobby commented.

"Bobby-" Viktor started.

“I know,” interrupted Bobby. “I'm being unfair. I'm sorry. It's just that I miss you so much. I still have very strong feelings about you, Viktor. It's like you've completely forgotten about me.”

“I haven't forgotten about you,” Viktor countered. “It's just that things have changed.”

“I don't want things to change,” Bobby protested. “I want things to stay the way they were.”

“Well, they can't,” replied Viktor, annoyed. “We need to grow up and be adults. You need to stop living in a fantasy world. I'm with Frieda now. I'm going to ask her to marry me. That's why I invited you over. I wanted to tell you myself.”

Bobby was on the verge of tears. He felt as if Viktor was completely rejecting him. He stood there, trembling, wanting to say something, but knowing that he couldn't. He knew in his heart that it was wrong to love Viktor. If he truly did, he'd let him be with Frieda. 

“I'm going to leave now,” said Bobby, his voice wavering.

As he turned to leave, Viktor grabbed his hand and pulled him back.

He kissed Bobby's forehead and said, “I'm sorry.”

“Ok,” said Bobby, as silent tears ran down his face.

\---

Almost immediately, Bobby packed up all of his things and moved to London. He made his way by waiting tables at different bars and nightclubs. Eventually, he started dancing and playing instruments, latent talents that he found he quite liked. After a little while of bouncing around, he got a permanent position at a place called The Nightingale Bar. It was a private, low profile place and it was exactly what Bobby needed in order to live more freely. Bobby greatly enjoyed living in London, but he always felt that something was missing. It wasn't until much later when he received a letter that he knew what that something was.

The postman delivered the letter to Bobby's apartment and he inspected it. The return address said Berlin so it was someone from back home. Bobby assumed it was from his mother, but the address wasn't hers. Bobby opened the letter to solve the mystery.

Dear Bobby,  
I hope you don't mind the letter. I went to visit you and when your mother said you had moved to London, she gave me your forwarding address. I'm surprised that you would do something so drastic like move out of the country, but you were always more on the dramatic side.   
It may interest you to know that I never married Frieda. Shortly before the wedding was supposed to happen, she ran away with a man who had more money. I don't mind though. I never loved Frieda. My heart always belonged to someone else. That someone, you can probably guess, is you.   
I wish I could have expressed my feelings for you sooner, but the problem was my father. The first time he heard of my interest in you, he pushed me down a flight of stairs and threatened to kill me if I spoke that way about you again. Eventually, he wanted me to break contact with you completely. That's when I decided that I had to propose to Frieda.  
So, Frieda is gone and father is too. He died of a heart attack not too long ago. I'm sad that it happened, but I don't think I'll miss him as much as I should. Anyway, I am a man free from entanglements now. I work in a place called The Kit Kat Club now. It's very interesting. It's discreet and I like that. It would be a good place for us if you know what I mean.  
I really hope you come back to Berlin. I'm very sorry for all of the sadness you've experienced because of me. I have no one to blame but myself for driving you away. I miss you terribly. I've treated you so poorly though. I would understand if you didn't miss me back.  
If you do want to come back to Berlin though, I would be over the moon. I'm very close with one of the head men at the club I work at. I'm positive that I could get you a job. Also, if you need a place to stay, you could come live with me. It's a one bedroom apartment, but we'll think of something.  
All my love,  
Viktor

When Bobby saw the signature, his knees went weak and his palms were clammy. Viktor loved him. Viktor loved no one but him. Viktor was sorry and Bobby forgave him. He was ready to go home and be with Viktor.

\---

Soon, Bobby was back in Berlin. He had sent a telegraph to Viktor and they agreed to meet at the nightclub. When Bobby got there, he immediately saw Viktor. He looked handsomer than Bobby had remembered.

"Hello, stranger," said Bobby.

Viktor grinned from ear to ear and hugged Bobby close to him. He kissed Bobby on the cheek which was a surprise. Viktor had never been this affectionate. 

“I'm so happy to see you,” Viktor enthused. “Sit down. Have a drink with me.”

The two sat down at a nearby table. Viktor waved down a waiter who delivered two glasses of some kind of alcohol to the table. The two looked at each other admiringly for a moment. Bobby felt lightheaded with excitement. He was overjoyed to be back with Viktor again. Just then, a slightly strange, but very attractive man stopped at the table.

“Viktor, is this your brother?” the man asked, indicating Bobby. “You two look just like each other.”

Bobby and Viktor chuckled. They looked nothing alike.

“This is Bobby,” said Viktor. “He's the one I was telling you about.”

The man's expression changed to one of confidence. He smiled wryly and his body language became flirtatious. 

“So you're the famous Bobby,” he said coyly. “Viktor has told me all about you. I imagine I'll be seeing more of you. It was very nice meeting you.”

With that, the man sauntered off.

"Who was that?" Bobby asked.

“That's the man who can give you a job,” answered Viktor. “Are you up for something interesting tonight?”

"Of course," replied Bobby.

Viktor smiled and left the table to go talk to the man.

As Bobby watched Viktor and the man have a conversation he couldn't hear, he thought to himself, _“This is a brand new life for me. I can't wait to see what it brings.”_


	9. Viktor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up: This chapter contains homophobia induced violence

Viktor Mayer's best friend was Bobby Weber. The two grew up together in the same apartment building and were inseparable. In a word, Viktor felt that he loved Bobby, but this wasn't always a good thing.

Viktor had his first inclination of the potential danger when he was younger. It was a very ordinary day. His _Onkel_ Karl had come to visit and he was complaining about his neighborhood.

“It's gone completely to pot,” Karl grumbled. “It's nothing but prostitutes and low-lifes. And get this, I just recently found out that one of my neighbors is a queer.”

"Disgusting," muttered Viktor's father.

“What's a queer?” asked an eavesdropping Viktor.

“It's a depraved, crazy man who has sex with other men,” his father answered.

“I'm not too worried about that neighbor though,” Karl said to his brother. “You know how those queers are. They get those throat infections and die off pretty quickly. So hopefully, I don't have to worry about him for too much longer.”

Some of this confused Viktor, but mostly he felt frightened.

\---

When Viktor was a little older, a group of boys at school were talking about how pretty the new teacher, _Faulein_ Wagner was.

When one of the boys asked Bobby what he thought of her, he said, “I don't know. She's fine and all, but I still prefer Viktor.”

This answer didn't phase Viktor. He knew that Bobby loved him and that there wasn't anything wrong with that. Viktor knew that love and sex were different thing, but when the boy asked Bobby if he was a queer, his heart dropped. He started to panic. Why would he ask Bobby that? Bobby wasn't a queer. And when Bobby asked what queer meant and the boy told him to ask Viktor, he became even more panic-stricken. Thankfully though, the group didn't push it any further and left him and Bobby to walk home.

When they arrived back home, before they went inside, Bobby asked, “Viktor, what does, 'queer' mean?”

If Bobby truly didn't know what the word meant, Viktor didn't want to be the one to tell him. So, he sighed, ruffled Bobby's hair and said, “I'm not going to tell you. I don't want you to be upset.

\---

When Viktor was a little older still, there was a day that his father invited the girl who lived upstairs, Frieda Becker, down for lunch. He and Frieda's father were friends and he thought it'd be nice if Viktor got to know her.

“I'm so glad you could come down and join us for lunch today,” said _Her_ r Mayer as he and Viktor walked her back up to her apartment. When they got to Frieda's door, he said, “Viktor, give Frieda a kiss goodbye.”

Viktor was surprised by the request and felt awkward about it, but did it anyway.

After she was inside, but before the two made their way back downstairs, _Herr_ Mayer asked, “Do you like Frieda?”

"Yeah, I guess," replied Viktor.

“Why don't you ask her on a date the next time you see her?” his father offered.

“I'd rather not,” said Viktor. “I don't want to lead her on and think that I love her since I love Bobby after all.”

In the next moment, _Herr_ Mayer pushed Viktor down the stairs. His leg was broken.

\---

Viktor laid in his bed with a cast wrapped around his pained leg. He wanted to get up and leave his room. He wanted to go see Bobby, but he was much too weak for that. All he could do was stay put and listen to his father's diatribes.

“I can't believe my son would act like such a queer,” he shouted.

“You told me a queer is a man who's had sex with another man,” protested Viktor. “I've never had sex with anyone.”

“Shut up,” his father spat. “That's not the point. I'm not having some diseased psycho living under my roof. I'm forbidding you from seeing that dumb boy ever again. Do you hear me? If I see you talking to him again, I'll kill you.”

"You wouldn't," said Viktor

“I pushed you down the stairs,” said his father somberly. “What makes you think I wouldn't kill you?”

\---

As the days went by, Viktor became lonely. He wanted someone to visit. He wanted Bobby to visit. He didn't care what his father said. He knew that there was nothing wrong with him or with Bobby.

One day, Viktor's father knocked on the door to his bedroom and said, “Son, you have a visitor.”

Viktor desperately hoped that it was Bobby even though he knew that couldn't be true. And it wasn't. His visitor was Frieda.

“Isn't it nice of her to come and visit you?” His father asked tersely. “Frieda, I believe that Viktor has something to ask you.”

Viktor wasn't sure what his father was getting at, but then he remembered a previous conversation they had.

“Frieda, will you go on a date with me?” Viktor asked.

She didn't seem particularly thrilled, but she consented nonetheless.

\---

Not too long after, Viktor was feeling much stronger. So, he waited for his father to go to work one morning and then hobbled down to Bobby's apartment in secret. To his good fortune, Bobby's mother wasn't home.

The two sat in Bobby's bedroom as he relayed a conversation he had with his mother.

“She said that she didn't want people to think I had a disease,” said Bobby. “The whole thing was very confusing. She said that if people heard me talking about you, they might think I'm a queer, but I don't get that. So many people are in love. Why am I sick in the head if I love you?”

Viktor chuckled and said, “I guess you still don't know what queer means. I'm a little surprised. A boy is a queer when he likes another boy. It's not right, Bobby. I know you think your mother is being ridiculous, but we really shouldn't go on like this.”

Viktor could see the shock on Bobby's face. He had never said anything like this before. He didn't like that he had to say them, but he knew there would be consequences if he didn't.

“What are you talking about?” Bobby asked. “You know that I love you. Are you saying that what I feel isn't right?”

Bobby took hold of Viktor's hand, but Viktor immediately pulled away. He didn't want to, but he knew it was in the best interest of their safety.

“Come on, Bobby,” said Viktor. “It was fine when we were kids, but we're getting older now. We're seventeen. We can't play like this anymore.”

“Play?” Bobby questioned. “You think this is just playing? I was serious, Viktor. I still believed that I was going to marry you.”

After an eternal moment, Viktor said, “I think I should leave, Bobby, before you get hurt even more.”

Bobby didn't say anything. So Viktor went back up to his apartment. He felt sick in his heart. He hated how much he had hurt Bobby, but he knew it was for the best. His father had threatened to kill him. If he was willing to kill Viktor, then he was more than willing to kill Bobby as well.

Later that night, Viktor's father returned from work and found his son lying in bed. There were no clues of his earlier escapades.

“How are you feeling?” his father asked.

"Fine," lied Viktor.

“I ran into _Frau_ Weber on my way up,” he said. “I told her about how you asked Frieda on a date. I think that'll keep her awful son away from here.”

Viktor's father walked out of the room and left his son to cry in silence.

\---

Through the pressure of this father, Viktor kept seeing more and more of Frieda. In turn, he saw less and less of Bobby. He missed him desperately, but he knew that it had to be this way.

After seeing Frieda for awhile, Viktor's father said he wanted to have a serious talk with him.

“Things are going really well with you and Frieda,” Viktor's father commented. “I think the time is right for this.”

He handed Viktor a small, black box. A ring was inside.

“A friend of mine is the landlord at the apartment building up the street,” said _Herr_ Mayer. “He said he could give you a good rate on an apartment of your own. I think it's high time you settle down and be a man.”

Viktor wanted to say something, but he knew that there was nothing to say. His father's mind was already made up. He thought about his relationship with Bobby. He knew what he had to do. He had to break his heart.

\---

Not too long after Viktor moved into his own apartment, he went to visit Bobby.

“Hello,” said Viktor when Bobby opened the door.

“I'm surprised to see you,” replied Bobby. “I haven't seen you in a while.”

“I know,” replied Viktor. “I've moved out of the apartment building. I have my own place now. It's just up the street. Would you like to come see it?”

Viktor felt uncomfortable when he informed Bobby that he had moved. This was the first he was hearing about it. He felt that he probably should've told Bobby sooner that he was moving out. However Bobby felt about it, he consented and the two walked to Viktor's apartment.

When they got there, Viktor asked, “Do you like it?”

“Yes,” answered Bobby. “It has a nice, new feel to it.”

“That's what I like about it,” said Viktor. “I'm really going after a new life.”

“A new life without me in it,” Bobby commented.

"Bobby-" Viktor started.

“I know,” interrupted Bobby. “I'm being unfair. I'm sorry. It's just that I miss you so much. I still have very strong feelings about you, Viktor. It's like you've completely forgotten about me though.”

“I haven't forgotten about you,” Viktor countered. “It's just that things have changed.”

“I don't want things to change,” Bobby protested. “I want things to stay the way they are.”

“Well, they can't,” replied Viktor, annoyed. “We need to grow up and be adults. You need to stop living in a fantasy world. I'm with Frieda now. I'm going to ask her to marry me. That's why I invited you over. I wanted to tell you myself.”

Viktor could see that Bobby was on the verge of tears. He wasn't surprised though. He was completely rejecting Bobby. His friend stood there, trembling.

“I'm going to leave now,” said Bobby, his voice wavering.

As he turned to leave, Viktor grabbed his hand and pulled him back.

He kissed Bobby's forehead and said, “I'm sorry.”

“Ok,” said Bobby, as silent tears ran down his face.

\---

Shortly after his confrontation with Bobby, Viktor asked Frieda to marry him. She had never seemed all that taken with Viktor, but she said yes anyway. 

Before the wedding took place though, two major events happened in Viktor's life. Firstly, his father died from a heart attack. Viktor was sad that it happened, but he didn't think he was as sad as he should've been. The second thing that happened was that Frieda left him. She ran away to marry another man who had more money. Now that Frieda and his father were gone, Viktor felt compelled to return to Bobby. He went to his apartment as soon as he could.

“Hello, _Frau_ Weber,” said Viktor when she answered the door. “Is Bobby home?”

“Oh, I thought you knew,” she began. “Bobby moved away. He moved to London. This was a little while ago now. Would you like his new address?”

Viktor was stunned. He shook his head no and bade Frau Weber a meek farewell. Then he went walking through the neighborhood. He ended up in a nightclub he had never been in before. It was a little too crowded, but he didn't care. He just wanted to drown his sorrows in a drink.

Halfway through his whiskey, a coy, male voice said, “A man as handsome as you shouldn't be looking that sad.”

Viktor looked up. A slightly strange, but very attractive man was standing in front of him.

“I'm sorry,” Viktor said. “It's just that I've been rather down on my luck.”

The man sat down next to Viktor and said, “There's no need to apologize. Tell me what's wrong, _liebling.”_

Viktor didn't know why he decided to trust this man. Trusting him seemed like a bad idea and yet, it's what Viktor did.

“My father died recently,” he said.

“Oh, I'm so sorry,” replied the man.

“It's ok,” said Viktor. “I'm sad that it happened, but my father wasn't a good man. He kept me from the one I love.”

“What's keeping you from your loved one now?” the man asked.

“Myself I suppose,” answered Viktor. “It wasn't safe for us. My father was so threatening. I didn't want to be cruel, but I had to. I said some terribly things. I had to keep him safe though.”

"Him?" the man repeated.

Viktor gasped at his mistake. He stared gapingly at him, desperate for his own safety.

“Don't worry,” said the man, waving it away. “I won't tell. Besides if I did, I'd have to tell on myself too. Continue with your story, _liebling._ Where is your love now? Is he still in Berlin?”

“Not anymore,” said Viktor. “He lives in London now. I feel terrible. I drove him away.”

“Do you have a way of getting in touch with him?” the man asked.

“His mother offered to give me his new address, but talking to him won't do any good,” said Viktor. “I know he won't want to come back. He probably hates me. I can't blame him. I kind of hate myself too. I'm all alone in the world with no family or job. I can barely afford my apartment. I'm probably going to loose it.”

“I can get you a job,” said the man.

“You can? Really?” asked a dumbstruck Viktor.

“Of course I can,” said the man. “Max, he owns the club, has put me in charge of hiring boys to perform here and let me be frank with you, _liebling._ I want you in my pretty boy chorus.”

Viktor's cheeks flushed. The flirtatious way this man spoke to him made him feel anxious and excited. He nodded and shook the man's hand. He was grateful for the offer.

“Once you're feeling back on your feet, I want you to get in touch with your love right away,” said the man. “I don't want any sad Kit Kat boys.”

“Yes, of course,” said Viktor. “Thank you.”

\---

Viktor wrote his letter to Bobby apologizing, confessing his love properly, and asking him to return to Berlin. He was overjoyed to receive Bobby's telegram saying that he would come back. They planned to meet at the club.

Viktor saw Bobby as soon as he came in. He thought he looked handsomer than ever.

“Hello, stranger,” said Bobby once he got to Viktor.

“I'm so happy to see you,” Viktor enthused after he kissed Bobby on the cheek. “Sit down. Have a drink with me.”

The two sat down at a nearby table. Viktor waved down a waiter who delivered two glasses of whiskey. The pair looked at each other admiringly for a moment. Viktor felt lightheaded with excitement. He was so happy to be back with Bobby again.

Just then, the man who had hired Viktor stopped at the table.

“Viktor, is this your brother?” the man asked, indicating Bobby. “You two look just like each other.”

Bobby and Viktor chuckled. They looked nothing alike.

“This is Bobby,” said Viktor. “He's the one I was telling you about.”

“So you're the famous Bobby,” the said coyly with a confident, flirtatious smile. “Viktor has told me all about you. I imagine I'll be seeing more of you. It was very nice meeting you.”

With that, the man sauntered off.

"Who was that?" Bobby asked.

“That's the man who can give you a job,” answered Viktor. “Are you up for something interesting tonight?”

"Of course," Bobby replied.

Viktor smiled and left the table to go talk to his employer.

As he walked towards him, he thought to himself, _“This is a brand new life for me. I can't wait to see what it bring.”_


	10. Hans

Hans Hoffmann felt like he was drifting. Back when he still lived with his parents, he always imagined himself with some kind of flashy job, lots of friends, and a real sense of purpose. All he had to do was move out. Now that Hans was living on his own though, he found that none of his aspirations came to be. Instead of a flashy job, he worked assisting the owner of a shop near his apartment. Instead of lots of friends, Hans couldn't make connections with anyone. Everyone in his neighborhood seemed to be more on the elderly side. Instead of a sense of purpose, all Hans could find was loneliness.

The only bright spot in Hans' life was his saxophone. He had it for awhile and loved playing it. Oftentimes, he would sit on the windowsill of his second floor apartment and play his saxophone into the brisk night air. His neighbors didn't like it, but Hans never listened to their shouts of protest. He would just go on playing his saxophone, making up his own songs.

Recently though, Hans was having a little trouble playing. It wasn't the saxophone. It was Hans himself. A melody kept running around his head and he just couldn't play anything else. It was the same tune over and over again. What made it even worse was that Hans couldn't think of any lyrics to go along with it. So, night after night, he just kept playing the same four line stanza while people walked below.

One night, Hans was playing his usual melody when suddenly he heard a man singing along.

 _“Hello, stranger. What'cha playing?  
Is it something for me?  
Hello, stranger. Are you staying?  
I would like some company.”_>

Hans was startled. He stopped playing and looked out the window as his eyes searched the darkness. Who was that singing? Then, almost as if by magic, the man materialized just below. He looked slightly strange, but rather attractive.

“Where did you come up with those words?” Hans called down shyly. He sort of felt like he had been caught doing something wrong.

“I just made them up,” called up the man. “Lately, every time I come by, you've been playing that melody. I thought I'd just sing the words that just popped into my head.”

“You've heard me play before?” questioned Hans. Unbeknownst to him, a slight blush crept up upon his cheeks.

“Why, yes,” replied the man. “I heard you playing a few nights ago while I was out for a walk. I enjoyed it so I kept coming back.” He smiled wryly and said, “I bet you're the best blow in the neighborhood.”

Now Hans was definitely blushing. He averted his gaze from the man's, but then blushed even harder when he glanced back up and discovered that the man was still looking at him flirtatiously.

“What's your name?” asked the man.

"Hans," he replied softly.

“Well, Hans, I have a proposition for you. I work down at The Kit Kat Club. I have this group of pretty girls, but what I'd really like is to form a group of pretty boys. You're certainly pretty and you play an instrument. That's definitely a plus. What do you say, _liebling?”_

“I, uh, I would have to think it over,” said Hans.

“That's fine,” replied the man. “Well, when you're done thinking it over, you know where to find me.”

With that, he turned around, waved over his shoulder, and disappeared into the night.

\---

Sometime later, Hans did, in fact, find himself at The Kit Kat club. It was seedy and dark, but very interesting. He watched as the girls interacted with the patrons and danced in their numbers with each other and the strange man who had spoken to Hans.

After one of his performances, the man spotted Hans and joined him for a drink.

“I saw you from the stage,” said the man. “How come it took you so long to come here?”

“You never actually told me where the club is,” said Hans. “I had to ask a few neighbors. They warned me about this place. They said all the women were prostitutes and all the men were homosexuals.”

“Well, are you?” asked the man.

“Am I what?” questioned Hans, suddenly defensive.

“Are you coming to work here?”

“Oh, you meant that,” said Hans sheepishly. “I thought you meant, um, well, never mind.”

Hans took a long swallow from his glass as he glanced around the club. Despite the warnings against it, something about this place felt strangely right to Hans. The people were interesting. He felt almost excited when he saw two of the girls whispering behind their hands and pointing at someone in the crowd. Maybe, just maybe, this was where Hans was meant to find his purpose.

Suddenly, Hans was very much aware that the man was staring at him.

“What are you looking at?” Hans asked as he put his glass back down on the bar.

“Your throat,” said the man casually. “You can tell a lot about a man from his throat. For instance, I can tell that you're a saxophone player.” The two chuckled, but then the man's voice dropped to a purr. “I can also tell that my prediction was right. You are the best blow in the neighborhood. Truth be told though, I'd still like to test that theory.”

Their faces lingered dangerously close to each other. Hans felt as if the man might kiss him. He also felt that he might not mind that, but then the man pulled away.

“I have another number to do with the girls,” he said. “Will you wait for me?”

"Sure." replied Hans.

The man smiled and got up to leave, but then remembered something.

“You never answered my question,” he said. “Are you coming to work here?”

Hans smiled wide and said, “Yes.”

The man grinned like a Cheshire cat and said, “I knew you would, Hans _liebling.”_

As Hans watched the man make his way back to the stage, he thought to himself, _“This is a brand new life for me. I can't wait to see what it brings.”_


	11. Herman

Herman Schafer was tall, muscular, and appeared to be very intimidating. With just one well-placed glare, he could make other men run for the hills. He couldn't help it. All of the men in his family were big burly men. A lot of guys had said to Herman how jealous they were of him. They would love to be as strong as him. Herman hated his appearance though. He felt too gruff and completely unapproachable.

One night, Herman was in front of his house, talking to a girl from the neighborhood, Gertrude. She had been apprehensive around Herman at first, but she finally seemed to be warming up to his tough exterior.

Herman was just about to ask her on a date when suddenly he heard, “Gertrude!”

The two looked up. It was her mother, storming across the street to collect her daughter.

“What are you doing with this man?” she bellowed.

“We were just talking,” answered Gertrude.

“That's all it better have been,” she snapped. “Look at this hefty oaf. He'd crush you if he got anywhere near you!”

“You're being unfair,” protested Gertrude. “You don't know anything about him.”

“I know how these big men are,” sneered her mother. “They prey on smaller women. They want someone to have power over, someone they can control. We're leaving this instant, Gertrude!”

With that, she seized her daughter's wrist and dragged her away. 

Herman was so upset and bewildered that he didn't know what to do. He didn't even know how to stop Gertrude's mother from treating him like he wasn't even there. Despite how he looked, Herman was terrible at standing up for himself. Dejectedly, he began wandering the streets, looking for a bar. He needed a drink.

Eventually, Herman ended up at a nightclub he had never been to before. He sat down at the bar, ordered himself a drink, and watched the proceedings happening on the stage. Two boys fought over a third as if they both wanted to tango with him. Herman was a bit surprised by this, but ultimately found it interesting. He couldn't help but feel like he wanted to join the three of them.

“Do you like my pretty boy chorus?” asked a coy voice from behind Herman.

He turned around and discovered a slightly strange, but rather attractive man before him.

“Yes,” replied Herman. “They look like they're having fun.”

“Yes, they have lots of fun,” said the man with a smile. “I'd like to get one more pretty boy though. It'd be nice to have someone to pair Hans up with. Bobby hates sharing Viktor, even if it's just for a number. Maybe someone like you would be interested in the position.”

“Oh, I don't think I would fit the bill,” said Herman, feeling self-conscious. “They're slender and cute. I'm too rough looking for something like this.”

“Nonsense,” insisted the man. “I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't think you belong here. You would be a nice compliment to the other pretty boys. What do you think?”

Herman looked at the three other boys on stage and thought about it. This man came right up to him without any hint of intimidation. He didn't see him as a big, scary guy. He saw him as a valuable asset. Herman knew that if he were to join these boys, he wouldn't feel like a hefty oaf. He'd feel like he was a part of their group of cute men. He instantly knew that he wanted to be a part of this.

As Herman accepted the man's offer, he thought to himself, _This is a brand new life for me. I can't wait to see what it brings._


	12. Emcee

Nobody knew too much about him. Even how he came to work for the club was shrouded in mystery. One night, Max had come in, told Frenchie and Sally that the club now had an emcee, and that was that. All during his time at the club, nobody could get a straight story on him. There were lots of rumors though.

"He's a homosexual."

"He has a wife."

“He lives at the club, but goes out during the day.”

“He owns an apartment, but he's never there.”

"He's in love with Max."

"He's in love with Sally."

“He's slept with every Kit Kat _Kind.”_

“He's a virgin and it's all an act.”

Even his exit was very strange and sudden. Nobody knew what happened to him. All they knew was that a few days after the fruit shop had its window broken, he disappeared.

Towards the end of his life, he like to tell stories. Whenever he could, he'd gather whoever was close by and start talking. His stories always began the same way.

“There was a Cabaret and there was a master of ceremonies and there was a city called Berlin in a country called Germany and it was a brand new life for me. I couldn't wait to see what it brought.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading/commenting/liking. If you enjoy long stories, I'd recommend, "Loving Sir." If you enjoy things based off of musical theatre, I'd recommend, "Rocky Block Tango."

**Author's Note:**

> Well, it was fun to write and that's what counts, right? Feel free to follow me on Tumblr: howarecatsreal


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